Feeling her lips pull down into a frown, Cristiano pulled away, releasing his hold on her neck. He was frowning, too, still staring at her, his mouth red from her lipstick and the red wine.
‘Was that too much?’ he asked, concerned. ‘Too soon? I’m sorry that I read you wrong.’
She shook her head, still confused by her own reaction. ‘No . . . I mean yes . . . I don’t know. I’m so sorry, you took me by surprise.’
What had he been expecting – for Cesca to throw herself at him?
‘It’s OK,’ he reassured her. ‘You need more time, I understand that. The best things in life don’t need to be rushed.’
In spite of his words, she still felt embarrassed, and found herself scrambling to her feet, standing up on the pebbled ground. ‘I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, and I should get some sleep.’
Cristiano followed suit, standing beside her. His smile remained painted on. ‘Of course. Can I walk you to your villa?’
A flash of alarm shot through her. She could only imagine what Sam would say if she rocked up to the house with Cristiano. ‘Oh no, I can go on my own. It’s too far for you.’
His brows knitted together. ‘It’s only next door.’
‘Honestly, I’ll be fine. The owners, they’re very private, they don’t like strangers coming onto the property.’ Seeing his expression, she began to backtrack. ‘Not that you’re a stranger, of course. Well, not to me. But they don’t know you, and I’ve promised to take good care of the house.’
Cristiano chuckled. ‘Please don’t worry, I get it. People guard their privacy very closely here, I can understand that. But I would like to ask a favour, if I can. Will you meet with me again soon? Perhaps we can go out for dinner together. There are a few restaurants around here I’d like to try.’
A long, slow breath escaped from Cesca’s lips. ‘That sounds nice.’
His smile was big. ‘Perfect. I’ll make some plans and let you know.’
Cesca nodded her agreement. ‘Good night, Cristiano.’ She turned, walking along the private beach to the fence that separated Cristiano’s side from the Carltons’, putting her foot on the lowest rung to climb over the top.
It was only when she fell flat on her face on the other side that she realised just how drunk she was.
*
Sam had forgotten how much he loved to read. It was the first time in years he’d held any written document in his hand that wasn’t a movie script, a contract or one of those goddamned magazines, and he had to admit it felt good. This was why he’d come here, after all, to find solitude and space, enough time to breathe, to think, to be someone other than the man Hollywood expected him to be.
He closed his eyes, letting the old, leather-bound copy of A Room With a View fall back against his chest, dust rising from its pages and tickling his nose. The warm night air caressed his skin as it breezed through the open window, as gentle as a lover’s touch. It had been a long time since he’d been able to doze in silence, without the sounds of LA, or the buzzing of his thoughts constantly interrupting his dreams, but for those few minutes something strangely akin to peace seemed to drift over him.
Gone were the voices in his head telling him he was all wrong. Even the loudest of them – Foster’s voice – stayed silent for a while. And for one
blissful hour he managed to sleep deeply, his body relaxed and loose as he dreamed on the library chair.
A loud crash woke him, and it was as though all his circuits were switched on at once. He half stood, the book falling onto the floor, trying to work out the origin of the noise.
It was dark in the library. He must have switched off the side lamp before drifting off, and only the faraway lights from the other side of the lake were left to do battle with the blackness. He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. There was a scratching coming from the hallway, like a cat running its claws down a wall. Not that there were any cats in the villa, Foster couldn’t stand them. He wasn’t a man for being at one with nature.
The noise started again, echoing through the library. Stretching his muscles, Sam cocked his head to one side. It really did sound like an animal.
It was only a few steps to the doorway. A few more until he made it into the hall, the murkiness of night following him in, though a lamp glowing in the living room tinted the air with a pale yellow glow. Cesca was kneeling in front of him, her bare knees and feet bracing her against the floor as she desperately tried to scoop up the contents of the hall table, which lay crookedly on the marble tiles.
‘Need some help?’ he asked drily.
Cesca’s eyes were wide, her face was flushed pink. Biting her lip, she shook her head, resuming her desperate tidying. The way she kept missing the papers and pens as she swiped reminded him of a toddler learning fine motor skills.
Sam knelt down next to her, taking the papers from her hands. ‘It’s late,’ he told her. ‘You can tidy this tomorrow when the light is better.’ He wasn’t sure why he was being easy on her, not after everything that had happened in the past few days. Maybe it was the way her hands were shaking, or the shallow breaths that had to fight to escape her lips.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, more worried this time. It wasn’t like Cesca not to have an immediate snarky reply. ‘Are you in pain?’ He reached out for her arm, scanning her body for signs of injury. It must have hurt like hell if the heavy table had fallen on any part of her.
Cesca glanced up, her eyes glassy. She frowned, not quite able to focus on his face. Trying to scramble up from her knees, she managed to fall forward, arms outstretched as she tumbled against him. She was surprisingly strong for such a petite girl, the force of her full weight winding him. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her, his hands pressed against her back, as he tried to stop the both of them tumbling to the ground.
For a moment she was still. He could feel her chest hitching against his. Her lips were close to his neck, her warm breath fanning his skin. Only a few inches more and her soft mouth would be pressing against him.